


Five Years

by AlexanderPeterson



Series: Hold Me Down [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderPeterson/pseuds/AlexanderPeterson
Summary: *Sequel to "Hold Me Down"Thomas Jefferson isn't someone to be trifled with. How will he cope with losing the two most important things in his life? ((not well))





	Five Years

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL ASKED FOR IT SO I'M HERE TO DELIVER.
> 
> Haven't read “Hold Me Down”? Go do that first. This wont make any sense otherwise.
> 
> What the hell happened in DC?! How did Thomas find Alex, John and Herc!? Is Alex dead!? Was George working for Thomas!?
> 
> All of these questions, and more, will be answered in this fic of currently undetermined length!
> 
> Enjoy!

XOXO

 

“Thomas- stop! You'll kill him!” Thomas froze with one hand wrapped around John's throat, the other pulling his arm behind his back, when Alex cried out to him. His voice was wrecked and barely came out as a whisper, but the fear reached him. John's pulse was weak under his fingers, and he would be lying if he tried to say he didn't enjoy the rush. Having someone underneath him, totally at his mercy, it was a power trip, and more addicting than anything he'd ever done. He'd be lying if he said he didn't love it. But now wasn't the time. He let go of John, letting him go limp on the living room floor, and stood up panting.

“I'm going to finish out the night.” He huffed, standing straight again and pushing his hair into place. “I swear to fucking god, Alexander. If either of you try to leave.” Alex looked up at him with tears starting to roll down his cheeks. Fuck... “I will find you. And I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me.” He left no room for argument.

“Yes, sir...” Alex croaked back, holding his side.

“We'll go in the morning to have you both looked at. You better think long and hard about what the men who broke in and did this to you look like.” Thomas turned on his heel and slammed the front door behind him. He knew John wouldn't go. John still needed him. And he was in no condition to try to run. Alexander on the other hand... He didn't want to think about it. He wasn't going to think about his boys trying to leave him. They wouldn't. They loved him. And knowing that they loved him was the only thing that kept him from turning around and going back home to them. He'd been neglecting his bar the last few months, trying to lay low after he'd shot Lafayette. He knew he wasn't a suspect, not any more, but paranoia still clawed at the back of his mind every time he was in that place.

He pulled into his usual spot in front of the bar and locked his car as he walked in, James giving him an odd look as he passed.

“Back so soon?”

“Needed to finish up a few things. I thought it would be best to leave Alex and John home for now. John's still a little rattled over what happened earlier.” Thomas lied easily. James- sweet, lovely, trusting James- nodded an understanding.

“Just let me know if you need anything.” Thomas returned the nod and pushed his way through the crowded bar to get to his office. He didn't miss the way a few of the patrons were looking at him and he cursed himself. He'd made quite a scene when some new comer decided to put hands on John. He didn't usually throw punches in public, let alone in his own bar, but when his boys were involved, nothing was off limits. He'd killed for them before, and he would do it again if it meant keeping them by his side.

“Everything alright?” He looked up from his key ring when Charles came up next to him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Fine.” He knew he was being short with his friend, but he couldn't talk. Not here. Not where anyone could overhear them. “Come in.” Charles raised an eyebrow but followed and Thomas felt that rush again. The rush that came with being obeyed. People like Mulligan, James, and hell- even Charles, thought they were above his influence. But he knew better. He could see it in them when he spoke. The need to please.

“What happened at home?” Charles was already making himself comfortable in the office when Thomas had finished locking the door. He tried not to grind his teeth when his old friend put his feet up on the couch. He was nothing if not a stickler for rules and cleanliness, and “no feet on the sofa” had always been rule number one in his mother's home. That would stick with him for the rest of his life.

“Shoes.” He muttered, turning to pull a bottle of scotch from the cabinet above his desk. He didn't miss the smirk Charles shot him before he slid a little further down the sofa so that his ankles rested on the armrest instead of his feet. Something stuck him when he went to open the bottle that he had selected. This was the bottle he'd found next to John when... Thomas fought the urge to dump the damn thing, electing to put it back on the shelf instead and grabbing a different bottle. But another memory rolled to the surface and he tried to fight the way his hands started to shake and the sick feeling that churned in his stomach.

' _Not that one._ ' He thought, tucking the bottle back into it's place. It'd sat unopened for three years and now he didn't think he'd ever be able to open it. It was from Lafayette and Hercules, a gift for his first anniversary with John and Alexander. The next was a no-go as well. A gift from Washington from opening night. And the next... From John. Their first anniversary. And the next. And the one after that... He finally snatched an almost empty bottle of cheap bourbon from the bottom shelf, something covered in dust that he didn't remember the origin of, and slammed the cabinet shut so hard he heard the glasses rattle.

“Tom?” He hadn't heard Charles get up from the couch and he flinched a little when a hand landed on his shoulder. “Did something happen?”

“Fuck. Don't do that.” He snapped back, pouring out two glasses and handing one of them over, leaving the bottle open. “No. Nothing happened.” He lied. Charles saw right through him. He always could.

“Fuckin' liar.” He drawled. “Alexander giving you trouble again?”

“No actually. It was John this time.” Thomas' grip on his glass tightened. “I swear I've seen that bastard that grabbed him around here before. I know I've seen John talking with him.” He almost hated the way Charles' eyes followed him while he paced the office, but he ignored it. “He's trying to leave me.”

“Tom.”

“He's going to run off with some fucking prick that probably can't even afford to buy himself a beer, _let alone_ all the things John needs! I take care of him! I've taken care of him for five fucking years now! Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

“Tom!” Charles grabbed his shoulder. “Shit man. You gotta calm down. John won't leave you. You're the best he's gonna get. You know that.” Thomas nodded, more to himself than anything and took another drink. “You've got nothing to worry about from some no name prick, alright?”

“You're right. I just... I don't like thinking about my life without them.” He sat heavily on the couch and Charles sat next to him.

“I know you don't. Look. Why don't I follow you back to your place tonight and put him in his place for you? Remind him how good he's got it with you?”

“You just want to fuck him because you've only had Alexander.” Thomas shot. There was no heat in his words.

“You always knew how to read me like a fuckin' book Tommy.” Charles laughed back. “Thanks for the drink.” He tipped back the last of his bourbon and got up to set the glass on Thomas' desk. “Let me know what you want after we close up.” Thomas nodded and leaned back on the couch after he was gone. Charles' words hung in the air like a fog and Thomas knew that even if he'd seemed like he was joking, the man was dead serious. He'd never let anyone lay hands on John though... It was always Alexander. But then, John never behaved like this. John never gave him a reason to let anyone else put their hands on him.

“Fuck.” He groaned when he got off the couch to refill his glass. The picture on his desk of the three of them at the top of the Empire State Building smiling up at him made his stomach churn again and he had to lay it face down. He frowned and ran his fingers over a scratch in the paint, wondering for a moment where it had come from, but smirking to himself when he remembered. That was from Alex.

Dread crawled up his throat when he thought about Alexander. He couldn't place it. But he knew something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong but he couldn't leave again. Not until the night was over. James would ask questions if he left again now, with Charles in tow, and he hated answering to James. He was quiet and reserved, but he could read him better than anyone else he knew. Thomas had trouble lying to him. Not because he would get called out on it, but because he actually felt _guilty_ lying to him. He would just have to wait out the rest of the night. It wouldn't be too long. It was already one-thirty, the bar closed at two, he could be out by two-thirty if he left James in charge of locking everything down.

 

_To Charles:_ Leave the bar at 2:15. I'll text you again when I leave. Follow me home.

_From Charles:_ Got it.

 

Thomas sighed and rested his head in his hands. It was going to be a long night...

 

XOXO

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO. Nothing's really been answered yet, but we'll get to that in a bit.
> 
> Before I let you all go about your lives, I have some news! I've opened commissions! If that's a thing that interests you then head on over to my Tumblr (alexander--reid) ((mind the two dashes there)) and search “commissions” if you're in the app, or add /tagged/commissions for your browser. While you're there, do me a solid and reblog that post, it would really help me a lot.
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks give me life!
> 
> I love y'all,  
> Alex


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